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<title>I count my love with flowers, so we may watch it grow by catlyson</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934168">I count my love with flowers, so we may watch it grow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlyson/pseuds/catlyson'>catlyson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:48:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlyson/pseuds/catlyson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘They are not eternal’ she would argue, and he would listen wholeheartedly to whatever passionate display she had ready on the subject, albeit raise a brow at such a notion; </p><p>‘And you think we are?’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I count my love with flowers, so we may watch it grow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marinette lays on a bed of dried grass, watching as the sky lightened from violet into yellow, her favorite time of day, although today it more resembles a pearly yellow, the color of pale daffodils, soft and lush to the touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she stayed still enough and pressed one ear firmly to the earth, she could hear roots both young and old murmur sleepy “hullo’s!” to each other, while other sorts of sentience burrowed about regardless of the early hour, earnestly digging about in the crumbly soil searching for food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although the days were beginning to warm themselves, she could tell it wasn’t quite time yet for buds to spring forth, the air nips a bit too sharply for such new, wispy lives. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bright rays are still thin enough to be broken up by the thick fogs that hung low in the air, leaving those awake enough to want warmth chasing after sun-dappled patches, rare as gold.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, all her earnest whispering about waiting underground would still go on disregarded, and here and there she would spy little sprouts that shivered and swayed as she walked past, having come up too soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could understand the urge though. All of the warnings given to her about bending the laws still doesn’t dissuade her from breathing a bit of warmth </span>
  <span>and life</span>
  <span> over the trembling stalks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even now she bends over to lovingly to brush a featherlight kiss against one of the buds that have pushed their way free next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t too much of course, just enough that they’d be strong enough to see their friends and companions come springtime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, this doesn’t mean her self-indulgences escape him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A heavy sigh rings out from beside her as he materializes from the shadows, she hears- </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> its weight, but she knows well enough that it’s his own self-indulgences that annoys him, exasperation boiling down to fondness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All crumble back down in the end. To the dark, damp, and sweet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lets a smile unfurl across her lips slowly, trying and failing to appear remorseful as she watches the familiar patchwork of words drift in the air, so overused that they have become soft and pliable to the touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All the more reason to let them burn as brilliantly as they can. Besides, I am only a guardian, and you the gatekeeper. They will come to you when it’s their time” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hums a tune in response, a lovely reckoning, and brushes a calloused finger across an unsuspecting stem, pale even in the growing dusk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It quivers with this newfound knowledge of absolution, moving to unfurl a new leaf with haste, unwilling to waste time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Luka</span>
  </em>
  <span>...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s now become her turn to chastise him -she firmly believes there are some things best left till later in life to learn- although he believes that there’s no harm’s done in being given a deeper understanding of your own existence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘They are not eternal’ she would argue, and he would listen wholeheartedly to whatever passionate display she had ready on the subject, albeit raise a brow at such a notion; </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘And you think we are?’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For today, the world seems to comfort itself in quietude, and it would be a shame to not follow suit. So, she lays back down beside him, leaving the conversation for </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He murmurs something or other after a while, the metal of his ring glinting as he points out a bird gliding past them, particularly graceful with its movements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, she’s already lost herself in the sound of content whispers by then, burrowing herself further in the grass, consumed by the spell of its sweet smell, its warmth, his presence, the blue, the thrill...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh darling spring, won’t you slumber for just a while longer? </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Suggestions are always welcome &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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